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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25423354">Feel Real</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wearethepogues/pseuds/Wearethepogues'>Wearethepogues</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Rewrite, F/M, Lydia Martin &amp; Malia Tate Friendship, Lydia Martin &amp; Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Minor Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall &amp; Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Stalia, isaac lahey &amp; malia tate friendship, sciles friendship, stiles and malia, teen wolf season 6 rewrite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:27:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,635</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25423354</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wearethepogues/pseuds/Wearethepogues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Were you ever going to tell me?”</p><p> “ Tell you what, Malia?”- He asks averting his eyes and choosing to inspect his own fidgeting hands instead.</p><p>“ That you were still in love with Lydia”-She says, with her normal amount of sincerity. God, he’s such an asshole.</p><p>or</p><p>how Stiles and Malia navigate the aftermath of their breakup a few months too late when things are suddenly complicated</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Feel Real</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span><b>Nodus Tollens</b> (noun): The realization that the plot of your life doesn't make sense to you anymore—that although you thought you were following the arc of the story, you keep finding yourself immersed in passages you don't understand</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stiles sat in the curb at the parking lot toying with his car keys, his eyes looking around the deserted high school. The dim lights of the street cutting the darkness, making him visible enough to not get run over by a car, even in the middle of the night. He’s been sitting there for a long time when he hears the familiar rattling of an old car pulling over on the other side of the parking lot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> It's kind of pathetic, but he doesn't need to see the car to know it's her. He’d recognize that sound anywhere.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t forget it even if he wanted to, he’s had hundreds of arguments over the dammed car, to be able to get it out of his mind. They all started the same way, with her being late somewhere because the car wouldn’t start. And, they all ended the same way, with her cute puppy eyes asking for forgiveness. It’s safe to say that he hadn't won one of all those arguments.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s pretty sure that, if he hadn’t said anything about the noise driving him mad, she would have taken the car to a mechanic, ages ago. But, the little minx loved getting on his nerves. He still remembers the way her eyes would shine with a teasing glint whenever he would bring it up. How she would give him a cheeky smile, and tell him to quit worrying about her car, that it was completely safe. Well, safer than what they got up to daily, at least.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would let it slide most of the time, at least her car wasn’t held together by duct tape and sheer willingness. She would be fine with a car that makes a little noise and has a bit of an attitude problem. And, he’d never been able to stay mad with her for long, anyway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sound takes him back to a time where they were still together, and he can picture the two of them, pressed together on the backseat of the Jeep after one of those arguments. The sound of her laughter echoing while he vowed that for as long as he lived, he would drive her wherever she wanted. All he wanted in exchange was for her to stop driving in her car, she was going to end up dying in an accident because she wouldn’t take it to a garage. She had given him a tender kiss as an answer, laughter edged to the corner of her lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That had been then, though. Things were different now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He looks her way and listens to her wary steps, as she walks in the dark towards him. He hears her stop, and she stands there, roughly 6 feet away, gazing at him. The intensity of her eyes takes him by surprise, and he has to look away. She's there, closer than she has been in months, and so far away at the same time. She hesitates a little too long before approaching him. And, for a second, he wonders if she‘s going to turn around and leave but, then he hears her sigh while she settles down next to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s not close enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Over the last year, he had grown accustomed to being on each other's personal space, all the time.  Having her thigh always pressing right up against his. His arms surrounding her small figure instinctually, hugging her close. Both of them neighboring the line between PG and R rated, with their PDA. He's used to being close enough to not know where he ended and where she started, being any other way with her is strange. It makes the few inches that separate them feel like they're hundreds of miles apart.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span> He's numb, though he isn't sure if it is because he's been sitting there for a long time, and he's cold-it's still way too cold for Beacon Hills, even though it’s no longer winter- or if it is because even if they aren't pressed against the other, he can feel the warmth radiating off of her skin, and it makes him feel lonelier than ever before. His skin aches to feel hers. He wants to pull her closer until lines start to blur once more, but he knows that it isn't fair. It's his fault she's sitting so far, anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He can feel the tension radiating off her body, sense her discomfort. It's awful, and it makes him feel nauseous. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not long ago, they would’ve been all over each other. Her head resting on top of his shoulder with care, and her hands in his while he tried to warm her. They had always been like that, comfortable. Every touch felt natural and easy from the beginning, that’s why he had been the first person she’d trusted after leaving the woods. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now though, sitting next to him makes her look like she's putting up with a math class. A spike of guilt shoots through him, how did he allow things to get this fucked up? </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span> “What are you doing here, Malia?”- he breathes out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your dad called me, he's worried about you”-she mumbles under her breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He makes a conscious decision to keep his eyes away from her-“Why would he call you?”- he doesn't mean for it to sound rude, but it does either way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Malia blows out a breath. He turns to look at her, and she shrugs. Her face beat red and looking straight ahead while she fidgets with her shoelaces. “I'm guessing that he didn't get the memo that we were broken up, either”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's a low blow and she knows it. He’s taken aback with how much it hurts, he feels actual physical pain at her statement. He's about to say so, but the hurt in her eyes is so evident, that he doesn't call her out on it. He feels like he deserves it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m fine. You can go now”-he curtly says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you always been a douche or have you been taking classes?”- she grumbles under her breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Had to spend a fucking long time with Peter”- he says, passing a hand through his hair and turning to look away from her-“ I basically have a Ph.D. in douchiness by now”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Malia tries to hide a smile and rolls her eyes at him. “Why are you still here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stiles shrugs, "I'm just…thinking."- At least that's what he was doing when he’d sat there a few hours ago. Now? He’s not sure, he's not sure of anything anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you couldn't think at home?”-she says, making a face-“It's freezing, you're gonna get sick”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Choosing to ignore her grumbling, Stiles bumps his knee delicately against hers, to catch her attention-“I’m sorry he called you in the middle of the night. You didn't need to come”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's okay, Stiles”-she says softly -“ I wasn't gonna ignore your dad, he's a good man”- What she means goes without saying. It’s written all over her face, in the way her brows furrow with worry and her eyes begin to glisten. She’s grateful to his dad. To the man that had welcomed a stranger into his home without a second thought, the man that had helped her rekindle her relationship with her father.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Getting to know the real Malia, had been one of his proudest achievements. He's glad, relieved even, that after being broken up, he's still able to read her like an open book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> She’s one of the nicest people alive, always kind and attentive. Even though her wild instincts were still second nature to her, preventing people from experiencing all the softness of her heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>”Rules of the wild, Stiles”- she had explained to him once -“Weak animals eat last”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Somehow, his dad had seen behind the pretend toughness and had developed a soft spot for the girl. The Sheriff and Malia had bonded quickly over making half-burned pancakes and movie nights. Stiles had come home more than once, after Lacrosse practice, to find them snuggled under a blanket watching some old movie Malia’s mom used to like.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> His dad’s soft spot for Malia had turned into a sort of friendship. One, that by the looks of it, they’ve kept even now that she no longer lives with them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It shouldn't sting so much that she's only there as a favor to his dad, but it does. What was he expecting, though?  If things had been the other way around he wouldn't want to be around her at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don't owe us anything, Mal”- the nickname slips out before he can catch himself but, if she notices, she doesn't mention it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I kind of do”-she mumbles, brushing a hand through her face-“ You were with me when I needed you the most... both of you. It's the least I can do”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She has a way of speaking, being blunt and honest, that can destroy you in the bests ways. That’s why he loves talking to her. She bares her soul, without a filter, to anyone willing to listen and, he’s suddenly overcome with affection for her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's missed her, he knows as much, anyone would miss spending time with Malia. They haven't had a conversation, that wasn't related to The Pack, in a long time. Stiles hadn't seen her in a long time either, but he doesn't want her there. Not now. Not after what had happened in that very parking lot a few hours ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay, Stiles?”- she asks softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m dandy”-he says, because what's he supposed to say? The truth? That would go great. “No Malia, I’m not okay because I told Lydia I’m in love with her but, I’m not sure if that’s true” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yeah, he’s not saying that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She scoffs at him-“No, you're not”- she's looking at him now, for the first time in forever, and his breath catches in his throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She's always been beautiful. There’s no point in denying that, but there's something new. The way her eyes shine in the glooming light of the street, understanding and open, makes him weak on the knees. She looks both ethereal and completely human. He didn't know a person could be this fascinating, this bright.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wants to tell her how lovely she looks, how much he appreciates her checking on him, knowing that it must be hurting her to be this close to him. But, he says- “Is that your professional opinion ?”-instead, because it seems that he’s pretty set on making her hate him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks put out by his bitting remark- “what are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you going all coyote on me? Reading my chemo-signals without my permission?”-he asks sharply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She flinches and moves slightly farther away from him. It takes all he has to not reach for her, to keep from pressing her to him once and for all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not”- she snaps, offended that he would think that she'll do that to him- “You don't date someone for a year without getting to know them, Stiles”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's being such a dick to her because he knows that she wasn't. Since she learned how to control it, she hasn’t been reading anyone’s chemo-signals. He knows it because she explained it to him a while back when they were still a couple. She said that knowing what everyone was feeling all the time, felt a lot like cheating at being human. She didn’t want to cheat anymore, she wanted to be as human as possible. So she got Peter to teach her how to stop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can't help but think, that she might not even want to know what he's feeling. Would anyone want to know what their ex is feeling after he proclaimed his feelings for their mutual best friend? Probably not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'm sorry, Malia”- He says, keeping his eyes glued to the asphalt. He isn't sure what he's apologizing for, but when she rests her hand softly on his knee, and says -“I know, me too”- he realizes that she gets it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After that, they stay there for a while, sitting on the floor of the High School’s parking lot in complete silence. The only audible noise is their even breaths resonating in the dark. He’s baffled when he realizes that, it’s here, sitting with Malia in the middle of the night that he finally feels at home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The silence gets broken by Malia’s gentle voice asking - “Were you ever going to tell me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks her way and, he can see that her face’s stone-cold but, as much as she would like to be able to hide it, her eyes are tainted with pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s surprised by the hurt in her gaze- “ Tell you what, Malia?”- He asks averting his eyes and choosing to inspect his own fidgeting hands instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ That you were still in love with Lydia”-She says, with her normal amount of sincerity, drowning him in self-hatred. He did that, he told Lydia he loved her, without even having a conversation with Malia about the situation first.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God, he’s such an asshole.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's not like that, not really”- he says, because it isn’t. She needs to know that their relationship was real. He loved her, still does. He didn’t want to be with Lydia while she was his girlfriend,  he isn’t even sure that he wants to be with Lydia now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's okay Sti, you don't need to lie to me. I’ve seen the way you look at her”-she answers quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, really. Things are more complicated”-he explains while passing a hand through his face- “ Lydia and I, we almost had something. Not long before I met you, there were feelings, that kind of thing doesn't disappear...I care-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She cuts him off before he can finish explaining himself, and mumbles under her breath- “Yeah, Scott said something like that”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?”-he asks- “ When did he say anything?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When we were rescuing Lydia from Eichen House last year, I overheard a conversation between Scott and Kira.”- she starts explaining while her hands play with a pebble- “They said that you were still in love, that you hadn’t stopped”-She finishes, shrugging her shoulders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stiles sees red for a second, consumed with rage towards his best friend. How could he say something like that with Malia around?- “ Well, that's shitty,”- He sighs- “ I'm sorry he said that”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay Stiles. Don’t sweat it, I just wondered if you were ever going to tell me”-She replies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s being so unbelievably nice, that he wants to kill himself. She should be mad at him, she should scream and demand explanations but, she’s asking him about his feelings instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mal, I thought it was going to be me and you forever”-he whispers. Sometimes he still thinks it’s going to be them forever, but he can’t tell her that right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What changed then?”- she asks sounding as exhausted as he feels.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'm not sure, I guess I did”-he mumbles- “After what I did to Donovan something inside me shifted”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I wasn’t what you wanted any longer?”- she scoffs</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I couldn’t let you settle for me”-he replies telling her the truth for the first time that night- “I had killed someone, and you were willing to let it slide, to pretend it hadn’t happened”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>”I wasn’t going to pretend it hadn’t happened”- she gasps</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>”It sure looked like it, Mal”- he grumbles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was trying to be understanding because I know how bad it feels”-she says raising her voice- “You aren’t the only one that has killed someone”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is he an idiot for not thinking about that before breaking up with her? Yes. Was he under a lot of stress during that time? Also yes, so they might cancel each other out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ I was trying to behave like a human”- she whispers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Malia, a normal human being would have flipped the fuck out”- he tells her gently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I guess that I’m better than a normal human being then”-she calms a little and tells him with a small smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s looking her in the eyes when he tells her - “Yes, you definitely are”- trying to convey all of his mixed feelings for her with this answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She beams at him then, her gaze soft and kind. He’s glad that she’s able to read him, as much as he can read her because he’s not sure that he can put into words how he’s feeling. It doesn’t matter, though, he’s aware that she knows. She gets him like that, they’ve always been able to communicate with each other without having to use words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Mal?”-he says bumping his elbow against her ribcage softly to catch her attention- “ are we going to be okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She glances at him and smirks at his question- “ Yeah, even though you’re an asshole, I still wouldn't leave without you”-she says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those four words echo on his mind </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I wouldn’t leave without you”</span>
  </em>
  <span>. In the way Malia sees the world, those words mean more than saying I love you. They mean I’d risk starvation for you. I’d fight off predators to keep you safe. You are my mate, if you go I go. She hadn’t said that to him in a long time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Cool because I never want to not be your friend”- he says, trying to sound chill. He’s not chill, though. She still loves him, after all the shit he’s put her through, she still loves him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ I never want to not be your friend either”- she says, squeezing his hand reassuringly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks at her hand grasping his and he feels like everything’s exactly like it’s supposed to be. She’s close enough now for him to get drunk on the smell her peach perfume. She’s intoxicating.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He wonders, almost in passing, what it’ll be like to kiss her after all this time. He can’t even picture it, if smelling her scent makes the earth stop, kissing her it’s bound to make time still.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, even though this pity party has been all kinds of fun,”-she exclaims-“it's time for you to go home”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> "C'mon, Stiles.” -she urges with a smile, climbing to her feet and stretching her other hand out to him, to help him get up.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitates for a second, taken aback by her sudden outburst of energy, before reaching out to take it. Malia pulls him up with more force than necessary, making him stumble a little bit. They end up standing there, face to face, closer than they have been since he broke up with her. His eyes trail over her face. He's so close that he can see that her freckles are hidden under a small coat of makeup. That’s new, Lydia’s doing probably because she never used to wear makeup. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If he concentrated, he could even count the golden specks of her eyes from this distance. Being this close to her is one of his favorite things, to be able to see the round edges of her face, the softness of her eyes... not everyone is lucky enough to admire her from so close. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> And, even though it's been months since that day outside the Sheriff's station, even though not even 6 hours ago he was in this same position with one of her best friends, he kind of wants to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't know how long they spend looking at each other, with their hands clasped tightly. He can feel his heartbeat speeding up, though. He prays to whoever might want to listen, that Malia is too distracted by her thoughts to realize it. But, when he sees the way her lips curl into a smirk, he knows that she's aware of the effect that she has on him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks down, unable to hold her gaze. Is she going to get mad at him? He hears her stifling her laughter, so he lets his eyes drift back up to meet hers. She's still staring at him, her brows are frowned now, making her look adorable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stiles swallows, and starts moving slowly, almost without realizing it, inching closer to her, “Mal-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She drops his hand and takes a step back looking horrified and, their little bubble is burst. He knows that she’s thinking about Lydia because, as much as she loves him, he did profess his love for her friend a few hours ago. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don't think that we should see each other for a while”-she breathes out while she turns around and starts walking-“I need some more time to get to just friends, I’m sorry”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Malia please!”- he says under his breath. He doesn't need to yell, he knows that she's listening.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knows that the right thing to do would be to let her go home, but he can't let her leave like this. The idea of not even being friends with Malia cuts him deep, and Stiles feels tears prickling out the corner of his eyes. He wants to tell her that he loves her too, he can't though. She wouldn’t believe him and, what about Lydia? This isn't fair for her either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m really sorry”-That’s all he tells her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know”-she says resuming her walk to her car, and when she’s about to get in, she turns to look back at him with tears in her eyes-” The thing is Stiles, that sometimes sorry doesn't fix everything”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey! After having been part of this fandom for the past 9 years, I've finally decided to write for it. This is my humble attempt at fixing the mess that was season 6 in relation to Malia. Although I'd like to explain that I haven't seen the whole season, just bits and pieces so it might not make sense sometimes.</p><p> I apologize if there are grammar mistakes or something, as English isn't my first language.</p><p>I'd love to read your opinions about the fic, your constructive criticism, etc.<br/>Please, if you don't like the fic because it's a Stalia one, don't tell me. I don't care. It's specified that this fic is a Stalia one from the beginning.</p><p>I'm also on Tumblr as @neverleaveyoubehind were I'm rewatching Teen Wolf for the first time, and reacting to it. </p><p>Hope you enjoy it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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